


How To Save A Life

by itsallAvengers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Not Really Character Death, People Die But It's Me Writing So Not Really, Protective Steve Rogers, So Does Steve tbfh, Steve Rogers-centric, Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, i swear there is fluff buried in here somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: Steve and Tony fight, which is honestly not that unusual.Then Tony gets kidnapped. And suddenly Steve has a lot more to worry about than their stupid argument.





	1. Chapter 1

“Steve, I swear to god, if you don’t stop brooding about your stupid boyfriend in the next five minutes, I’m going to blow our cover just so that you can get your ass kicked by HYDRA,” Clint whined, poking Steve in the side.

Steve scoffed. “The day HYDRA successfully manages to kick my ass will be the day hell freezes over,” there was a short pause, before “-or when Tony starts fucking _listening_ to me,” was added quietly, and both Clint and Natasha groaned in frustration.

“Oh my God, Steve, it’s been two goddamn days of radio-silence, _surely_ you’ve calmed down by now?” Clint half begged, leaning his head despairingly against the wall and shutting his eyes.

From across the room where Natasha was on watch by the window, Steve heard a sigh of annoyance. “Come on, Rogers- we’ve been stuck in a confined space with your miserable ass, doing this ridiculously dull stakeout and watching an empty building for 48 hours straight. I am on my last nerve, and about ready to start impaling you if you mention Tony again.”

Steve opened his mouth to snap back irritably, but Natasha chose that point to shoot him a look that spelt death for Steve if he elected to ignore her threat, and he wisely decided against saying anything.

Instead, he leant back on the single bed and continued sulking privately.

 

He wasn’t even sure how their argument had started. It had just been a meaningless action that Tony had taken the wrong way, as he seemed to do so goddamn regularly. And before they could even make up, Steve had been sent off to some boring town in Russia, in order to keep watch of a building that SHIELD suspected to be swarming with HYDRA activity.

There certainly hadn’t been anything so far, and the three of them were about to start ripping their hair out from boredom. It hadn’t helped Steve’s mood much, either.

He thought back to the argument, and winced involuntarily. This one…this one had been bad. It was so sudden; that was what was surprising. Steve hadn’t even had time to prepare.  
It had been date-night. It wasn’t supposed to end like that.

They’d been leaving the restaurant; walking out on to the dark streets of Boston where Steve had wanted to spend the day in, and making their way back to the car. Tony had been closest to the road, and without even thinking about it, Steve had gently pushed him over to the other side and taken his place.

Apparently, that had been a big mistake.

 

_“Um…Steve?”_

_“Hmm?’_

_“Much as I appreciate the help, I can actually walk along a sidewalk without getting killed. You don’t need to swap places with me,”_

Tony had said it lightly, but there was a sharp undercurrent to it that made Steve’s eyebrows rise.

_“What? Tony, it’s- it’s not about that,”_

_“Then do explain,”_

_“I…I just want to keep you safe?”_ Steve had stumbled, trying to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn’t offend Tony.

But Tony had seemed to be getting more annoyed by the minute, and Steve was smart enough to realize that this must have been something Tony had been sitting on for a while, because it was unlikely he’d get so wound up over something as small as that.

_“Safe from what, Steve? Falling over my own two un-enhanced feet, stumbling into the road and dying?”_

_“Come on, Tony, don’t start-“_

_“No Steve, this is important,”_ Tony had interrupted angrily, stopping in the street and turning to look seriously up at Steve. _“You’ve got to stop this- this…overprotectiveness of me. It’s been bugging me for a while now.”_

_“Tony, really, this isn’t a big deal-“_

_“It’s not just today, though! You do it all the time- always standing over me when I’m talking to strangers like some sort of bodyguard, or refusing to let me take goddamn trips out of the house alone after dark. Hell, I’ve even had to swap places on the bed just so you’re nearest to the door, and I’ve been on the right side for my whole goddamn life! I don’t know how low an opinion you have of me when I’m out of the suit, but I’m not some fucking flower, Steve, I don’t need protecting!”_

_“Yeah- you really do, Tony,”_ Steve had been unable to help himself from saying, swinging around and grabbing Tony’s shoulders between his hands, feeling the smaller frame underneath him. Feeling those breakable bones.

_“Much as it might annoy you, I am a hell of a lot stronger than you. I can take more, survive more-“_

_“But it’s unnecessary! It’s…. it’s smothering! If I want to walk to the goddamn donut-shop at 2am, then I will, I do not need someone to hold my hand!”_

_“Tony, for God’s sake, I don’t want you to get fucking killed, is that such a bad thing? Really?"_ Steve was growing more and more angry by the second, pulling away from Tony and shaking his head in exasperation.

_“When it involves you treating me like I’m a little toddler who can’t tie their own shoelaces, yeah! It really is!”_

_“I am not like that, Tony, and you know it!”_

_“Do you? Do you really know how bad you are? What happens when the ‘protectiveness’ becomes possessiveness, huh? What happens if suddenly, I’m not allowed to leave the house at all, ‘just in case?’ ”_

Tony had looked absolutely fierce at that point, breathing heavily and clenching his hands against his sides as he glared up defiantly.  
But Steve- Steve was worse. He felt like Tony had just punched him. His mouth was hanging open in shock, a twisted look of outrage carved into his face.

_“Jesus, Tony…why the fuck would you say something like that? You know I’d never-“_

_“People can change real fast in relationships, Steve,”_ Tony had whispered, shaking his head and smiling bitterly.

 

It was only with hindsight that Steve realized maybe Tony had been talking from experience. But then- caught up in the moment as he usually was, Steve didn’t pick up on it.

 

_“Well I don’t. And I’m not going to change this part of me, either.”_

_“Seriously? You can’t even consider toning it down a little- you’re that fucking sure you’re right, aren’t you?”_

He knew he should have tried to compromise. But Tony should have been more sensitive about it; goddamn him, he _knew_ what had happened Bucky, he _knew_ Steve’s reasons. Steve didn’t know his.

 _“Yeah- I am!”_ He’d said defiantly.

Tony had looked at him, hard and cold, and Steve knew what he was going to say next would be ruthless.

 

_“Then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”_

 

He hadn’t known it would be quite that bad, though.

Steve had remembered the utterly resigned look on Tony’s face as he’d spoken - he remembered the horrified choking sound that came out of his own mouth in reply.

A year. They’d been dating for a goddamn year and Tony was talking about ending it over _this?_

But before Steve could reply, Tony was turning away, walking down the sidewalk with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat and a defeated look on his face.

_“I’m gonna hang around for a little while longer. On my own, you got that? Tony’s gonna walk around after dark like a big boy, and you will not be following me. Understood?”_

_“Loud and clear,”_ Steve had hissed, before turning on his heel and marching back to the tower.

 

That was the last time he’d spoken to Tony. Three days on, and it was radio-silence, so Steve couldn’t communicate even if he wanted to.

He wanted to.

He was still angry, yeah. Furious, even. But when you dated Tony for a year, and were best friends with him for even longer, you realized that the man was more complex than a Chinese puzzle-box, and things weren’t always what they seemed.

Steve wondered if someone had acted that way before. If someone had tried to take Tony’s freedom away from him.  
He could see why it would make Tony wary.

But Steve was right in doing it- he really was. He just needed to…to make Tony see that, too. Because Goddamn it, Tony was the most important thing in his life, so forgive him for trying to protect it.

He worried constantly. And he knew it was bad, he knew it was unhealthy- Jesus, considering their line of work, it was enough to give him heart failure every other day.  
He couldn’t help it.

Sometimes he’d have dreams. Horrible, terrifyingly disturbing dreams- all involving Tony.

They varied, a lot of the time.  
Sometimes it was just waking up and realizing that he’d somehow managed to roll over to the left side of the bed, and while he’d been asleep, someone had come in and stuck a knife through Tony’s chest.  
Sometimes the whole world was crumbling around him- everywhere was cold and he’d turn around to look for iron man in the middle of the battle only to see nothing but a blur of red and gold as it fell out of the sky.  
Occasionally, it wouldn’t be Bucky who fell from the train. It would be Tony.

But he also remembered how it had felt when he’d been smaller, and everyone had tried to ‘protect’ him too. How it had managed to make him feel like he wasn’t enough, despite the good intentions.

God. He just needed to talk to Tony.

Sighing in annoyance, Steve sat up and wandered over to the windowsill Natasha was watching; her focus somehow remaining absolutely true, despite the fact she was on her second hour of the shift.

“Let’s swap out,” he offered.

“No.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. I won’t whine as much if I’m distracted with surveillance.”

Natasha paused for a moment and shot a brief look at Clint that probably held an entire conversation Steve was oblivious to, before sighing and nodding her head, sitting up and offering her seat to Steve.

“Not another word about Tony, you understand? There is an awful lot of heavy artillery in this room and I’m not afraid to use it,” Natasha warned, before making her way over to Clint.

Steve settled down to watch, and forced himself to concentrate on something that wasn’t his stupid boyfriend.

 

**

 

It was six hours later, while Steve and Natasha were both fast asleep, that Clint heard something get dropped through the letterbox to their apartment.

 

“EVERYONE DOWN!” He yelled, diving toward his sleeping friends and hauling them to the floor, covering their heads in preparation for an explosion or attack.

As soon as Steve had woken up from the light sleep he’d been in, he had grabbed both of them and rolled until his body was covering theirs. Natasha somehow had a gun in her hand, which she had procured from nowhere.

They all waited. Nothing happened.

Steve slowly raised his head, big arms lifting themselves off Clint and Natasha to scan the room. At first glance, it looked empty. Safe as it always had been. But Steve didn’t doubt Clint, not for a second. If the man thought something had been coming, then something had been coming. They were too well trained to make mistakes about that sort of thing.

“Did you see what it was?” Natasha whispered, and Clint shook his head brusquely.

“Heard the letterbox opening. Then something dropped.”

“Whatever it was, we’ve been made. We need to get out, right now,” Steve said, crawling toward the door gently and looking for the offending object in the dark.

Clint turned on the lights. It became a lot easier to spot after that.

Steve frowned at the flat envelope that lay on the floor, completely average in looks. It was square, about the size of your average birthday card, with white paper.

“Don’t touch it,” Natasha warned Steve, jumping to her feet and walking over to the pile of supplies on the other side of the tiny room.

She fished out a sleek-looking device that Steve didn’t doubt for a second was made by Tony, and flipped the switch on the side. The screen lit up Natasha’s face, and she quickly tapped a button and then held it aloft.

There were about a thousand different warning beeps, and Steve immediately scrambled away quickly in case of proximity triggers.

“No no, don’t worry. The beeps are all our stuff. That’s clean. It just looks like a- a disk?” She said, brow furrowing as she walked forward and picked it up confidently, ripping open the envelope and pulling out the contents with curiosity.

It was a generic white disk, with a short message scribbled on in marker pen. Natasha read it carefully, and Steve watched the moment of realization in her eyes as the words sunk in, because suddenly Steve saw something that immediately put his guard up.

 _Fear._ She was _afraid._

Clint immediately held his hand out for it when he saw the reaction, but Natasha shied away from him, instead turning to Steve.

“This…I think it’s for you,” she said quietly, her voice steady and emotionless; a sure-fire way of letting Steve know that this shit was serious, whatever it was.

He didn’t want to take it. He guessed that whatever it was, he wasn’t going to like it.

But he was Captain America, and Captain America was not afraid of disks. So he held out his hand, and Natasha placed it in his palm.

Shooting the two spies one last apprehensive look, he turned his head toward the writing, scanning over it and letting the words sink in.

Turns out he was right. He really, really didn’t like it.

 

_-If you want to see Tony Stark alive again, I’d watch this video_

 

 

And that was it.

That was all it took for Steve’s whole world to start falling apart

 

**

 

“Steve, are you sure you want to watch this- me and Tash can do it and just give you the basic-“

“No. I’m watching it.” Steve was rather impressed that his voice didn’t waver at all when he spoke- that was good. That meant he still held some form of control.

Natasha stared down at his obviously shaking hands, before giving him a long look. But he met her gaze and refused to back down, until eventually she gave a sharp nod and didn’t say another word.

They were using a shitty laptop with no links to any of SHIELD’s or the Avengers’ files or data in case it contained a virus. Steve doubted it would; they obviously wanted him to see whatever this was. But it meant image quality would be shit, unfortunately.

The machine whirred to life, and Steve felt his breathing stutter to a halt as a grainy image popped up on screen.  
There was tiny little window of space between Steve’s logical thought process that almost wanted to smile, just because he was suddenly introduced to Tony’s face again.

It didn’t last long, replaced instead with an overwhelming desire to punch the nearest wall. Or throw up.

 

They had him.

HYDRA had him; tied up to a chair in the center of the room with a strip of duck-tape covering his mouth and wrapped around his wrists, locking them in place.

 

He looked half-dead already.

There were bruises…everywhere, and his jaw was set in a way that suggested a fracture. His eyes were unfocused and spaced out, with a head that kept lolling forward a little, like the weight of it was too much. He could be drugged, but Steve noted with horror the multitude of heavily-bleeding cuts on his head and guessed that a severe concussion was more likely.

The thing that alarmed Steve the most, however, was how terrified he looked.

Because if there was one thing that Tony never, ever did- it was give anyone the pleasure of seeing him scared. Steve had watched him face down armies and terrorists and certain death, all with a roll of his eyes and a condescending look on his face that managed to infuriate each and every enemy they faced without fail.

There wasn’t a trace of that, now. Just pure fear.

Steve sucked in a breath quickly through his nose, and forced himself to keep watching. He couldn’t afford to break down, not now, not when-

_“Hello, Steve.”_

He scanned the video for a source of the voice, but couldn’t see anything other than Tony in the center of the room and the day’s newspaper sat by his feet, as proof of life. On either side of him, Clint and Natasha were doing the same thing, and also coming up blank.

_“I’m not one for talking, so I’m going to make this quick and simple. You have something I want. I have something you want. If you do not give me what I want, then I will slowly, intricately, and painfully kill what you want.”_

The voice stopped, and on-screen, Tony’s glassy eyes widened suddenly, staring in terror at something none of them could see. They watched helplessly, as Tony began trying to scream through the gag, his feet shuffling uselessly against the floor as he tipped as far to the left as he could go, obviously wanting to escape something.

Steve kept his hands firmly under his legs. If they flew out now, God only knew what he’d hit. He couldn’t take the risk of hurting Clint or Nat.

 _“It would be a rather bad way to end your date, wouldn’t it?”_ The voice laughed, and there was the sound of shuffling feet, as the person walked on-screen.  
Tony’s breathing came in short, sharp bursts, and he clenched his eyes shut as tears dripped down his cheeks.

_“Some mercenary spotted him wandering through New York- grabbed him, and sold him to the highest bidder. Hello- that’s me, by the way-“_

 

“-Steve, just breathe, buddy, calm down. You need to breathe,” he vaguely heard the voice of Clint, far away in his head, the noise overwhelmed by the odd crashing sounds in his ears and the recording in front of him, that showed Tony seemingly getting more and more panicked with each passing second.

 

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.  
This didn’t feel real.

 

The laptop was suddenly shut by Natasha, and Steve whirled around to her in fury.

“What the fuck- we need- we gotta finish it-“ Steve rasped, taking in the air he’d been missing in order to try and yell at Nat successfully.

He felt as if his lungs weren’t working for the first time in 75 years. He felt small again.

“We did, Steve. That’s it. He’s told us all we need to know,” she said softly, beginning to stand.

“He- he did?”

“I’m not sure if you were very alert while he was going through his evil plan,” Clint told him, moving a hand to pat Steve’s leg gently before he too stood up, rummaging around his bag for what appeared to be his bow.

“What did he say?” Steve asked. His voice sounded odd. Weirdly detached from himself.

Clint and Natasha shot one another a look again, and then turned to face him. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and the weight of a body against his other side.

“Tony’s in the building. They must’ve known we were watching them all along- decided to have a little fun,” Clint said, before breaking off and looking pained, as if it hurt to say.

Natasha spoke instead, blunt and to-the-point as always as she said, “Steve… they want you. They want the serum. In exchange for him.”

 

Steve felt the words sink in- sluggishly, slowly, as if he’d been hit over the head.

Trade himself for Tony. The serum in his blood for the love of his life.  
He didn’t even have to think twice about it.

“Steve, no, you need to hold on and wait for backup-“

 _“Fuck backup,_ he’s in there and he needs me!” Steve yelled over Clint’s voice, easily extracting himself from the man’s grip and continuing his march to the door.

He felt like he wasn’t even in his own body any more. Simply watching in as the events unfolded around him. The only thing on his mind at all was one name, circling over and over, again and again- the images he’d just seen burned like a brand in the forefront of his brain.

Fuck. Tony. _His_ Tony, in their hands. Screaming.

“Steve- fucking Christ, you’re going into shock, you can’t expect to fight like this!” Clint yelled, grabbing his arm. Which was good, because suddenly Steve’s legs were giving out and the world was falling sideways and _oh God,_ Tony had looked so _scared,_ Steve couldn’t-

“Steve, _breathe._ You’re gonna knock yourself out if you don’t start breathing again, and then you’ll be no use to anyone,” someone grabbed his face between their delicate hands; firm and commanding and paired with a voice that was not to be fucked with.

Through the fog, Steve’s eyes met with the serious stare of Black Widow- and again, it took a while for the message to sink in- but then for the first time in five minutes, he felt himself take in a full gulp of air.

His lungs burnt and his eyes stung and he’d ended up on the floor sometime between getting off the bed and making his way to the door- but looking into Natasha’s eyes as she rubbed soft circles against his temples and grounded him with her strong gaze, he remembered that if he was going to get Tony, he’d have to be on top form. Which meant breathing was necessary.

“Good,” Natasha said approvingly, before tilting her head slightly whilst keeping her eyes locked with Steve.

“Hawkeye?”

“Yeah?”

“I take it you’ve sent the call out to the Shield and the rest of the Avengers?”

“I have. But... Widow, they’ve given us an hour before they- before they kill him. There’s no way any of them will get here in time; not even if Thor flies,”

Natasha pursed her lips and turned back to Steve, who opened his mouth to speak.

“No, Steve,” she cut him off with, her hand slicing through the air to silence him. “You don’t get to make the call here; you’re compromised and you know it. I decide whether we walk into this obvious trap or not, do you understand?”

“Whatever you say, I am _going_ in there. And you can try your goddamn hardest to stop me if you want, but you know it won’t work,” Steve snarled his reply, fists bunching up by his sides and digging into skin until he could feel the tension there.

Natasha looked murderous, and Clint looked apprehensive, but Steve really did not care. He did not care- he just wanted to go into that building and find Tony, and kiss every mark and kill every person who’d been a part of taking him away in the first place.

God. The last time Steve had seen Tony, they'd been yelling at each other. And now…this.  
Steve felt sick.

“I’m going. I don’t want you coming with me, either,” Steve told them firmly, getting to his feet and searching for the part of him that was going to be able to handle this. Captain America; he was the person who could do this. He could be brave, and calm, and think straight.

That’s what Tony needed if either of them were going to make it out of there alive.

From the other side of the room, Clint made a scoffing noise, and raised an eyebrow at him. “You really think we’re gonna leave you to do that alone, Steve?”

“That’s an order, Hawkeye-“

“Yeah, and you were completely up for disregarding Tasha’s orders a minute ago,” Clint fired back, pulling his quiver from the kitbag and stringing it over his back with a note of finality. “He’s our friend too, Steve. Damn right we’re going to get him- aren’t we Tash?”

Steve looked over to Natasha, who had her lips pursed again, and dropped her head into her hands. “Guys… do you understand how bad of an idea this is?”

Steve reeled around to face her. “Natasha- this is _Tony!”_

“Which is why we should be waiting for help, so that we can be sure we’ll make it-“

“Tony can’t afford to wait for help, Natasha, they’re going to kill him!”

“And we will be absolutely no help to him if we’re dead too!” She yelled fiercely, eyes on fire with anger.  
Steve knew how much that killed her to say- she and Tony had always had a close relationship, and this was hurting her. He knew it was hurting her.

She had always thought with her head. Steve wasn't quite sure why they picked him to be leader, rather than her.

Clint moved over to her instinctively, but she waved him off. “Steve- we have no plan. We have no backup, and no heavy-hitters. And we are about to walk headfirst into a trap. You have to see how… how _hopeless_ this is!”

Steve knew. He knew exactly how dangerous it was going to be, but it wasn’t going to stop him.  
It wasn’t going to stop Natasha or Clint either, despite what she said. He knew them too well to think otherwise.

“Come on, we’ve gotta… we’ve gotta get him. Please,” he said weakly.

Natasha looked at him hopelessly, and then turned to Clint. Yet again, they seemed to have a non-verbal conversation that Steve couldn’t work out, before she nodded her head slightly and turning away to grab her own kitbag.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice taking on the authoritative Captain America edge to it as he slowly regained his composure and took control back.

After another deep breath, he took a step toward the pile of weaponry and breathed out in relief when his legs didn’t falter.  
He could do this. He had to.

 

“Right. Let’s do something really fucking stupid,” Clint declared.

 

__________

 

“Ready?” Steve asked, gripping the steering wheel under his hands tightly enough to leave his fingerprints indented on the surface.

Clint nodded. Natasha pulled the safety off her gun.

Steve pressed his foot down and began driving down the dirt road, trying to quell the sickness in his stomach.

It had been forty minutes. God only knew what they could have been doing to Tony in that time. Steve was… he was manic; he was terrified and furious and utterly, _utterly_ determined.  
He would get Tony back. Or he would damn well die trying.

 

He couldn’t get the sight of Tony’s face out of his mind.

 

Steve had watched Tony go through hell before; torture and loss and panic attacks that could trump Steve’s own.

Never, had he ever seen Tony like that.

Tony’s pain was always so closed off. His face went blank and devoid of anything- that or the sarcasm and arrogance would be dialed up a few notches, as if physically attempting to drive people away so they couldn’t see him break.  
But it was never that blatant; that horribly open.

 

Steve had no idea what unspeakable things could have been done to him to make him like that. But he sure as hell was going to make them pay for it.

 

He pulled himself out of that particularly destructive train of thought just in time to watch Clint lean out of the window and fire a single arrow in the middle of one of the walls to the compound they were just beginning to drive up to.

His aim, as always, was true- and Steve watched with a twisted sense of glee as it stuck itself to the wall and the light at its hilt began flashing, the beeps getting shorter and shorter with each passing second.

“Buckle up,” he bit out briefly, as the truck gathered more speed and hit pothole after pothole.

Briefly, Natasha caught his eye.  
She nodded.

 

Steve swiveled the wheel, and sent them spinning headfirst into the front-wall of the building, seconds after Clint’s arrow blew it to smithereens.

 

He felt the impact reverberate through the truck, knocking them forward and making the seatbelt dig hard into his shoulder. His eyes shut on instinct, but he kept his foot pressed firmly on the accelerate and continued to force his way through the compound as rubble rained down on the roof of the truck.

Briefly, it felt as if the truck was going to swing out of control, and Steve gritted his teeth as he slammed on the brakes and pulled the wheel around, turning them in a 360 spin that only just balanced them out, before continuing along the factory floor (let’s just say it was pretty damn lucky they’d been given the plans to the base beforehand, or Steve would have been in some deep shit).

Clint and Natasha were sunk low in their seats, heads just poking over the window so that they could fire at any HYDRA agents. Steve followed suit, bending until his chin was practically resting on the wheel and trying to see through the smoke and falling rubble.

People were beginning to yell, and Steve felt the first bullet as it whizzed through the windshield and planted itself where Clint’s head would have been, had he not been crouching.

He kept driving; target set on the other end of the factory floor, where he knew there was a corridor that split off in three different directions. If he could get there, then he could split off from Clint and Natasha and search for Tony. They would have to be fast- they’d thrown subtlety out of the top story window when they’d crashed a truck through the front wall, after all- but the compound was small, and there was only one other exit.

Well. Two, if you counted the massive hole they’d just left.

Unfortunately, it may have been small, but the compound ran deep underground. Dark- which was good for Clint and Natasha, because they could hide in the dimness like the most professional ninjas.  
Not quite so good for Steve. Although he’d never really been good at stealth. It had been a running joke with the Howling Commandos about how he’d walked into a Nazi camp with the literal American flag painted like target on his back.

Eh. He’d been in worse situations.

“This is the most ill-thought-out idea we have ever collectively thought of,” Clint declared, unable to stop the laugh as he took out three agents that were lined up and firing at them from behind.

“What did I fucking say, hmmm? _‘Don’t walk blindly into the HYDRA base, Steve’, ‘this is a bad idea, Steve’._ Did anyone listen? No,” Natasha growled, ripping off the safety pin on the grenade she was holding with her teeth, before hurling it out of the smashed window.

As the explosion sounded behind them, Steve glanced toward her. She already had a cut above her eyebrow, but she was looking at him with something like a wild sort of enjoyment on her face. Clint looked much the same.

“Three seconds!” He called, turning the wheel a little and directing the car into the too-narrow corridor.

They wouldn’t make it through, obviously. But a massive truck jammed between the walls would probably block anyone from following them.

Bullets were sending shards of glass flying everywhere; Steve could barely see or hear at all. But somehow they made it, crushing the poor, beaten truck between the two thin walls with a horrible scraping sound.

Once more Steve was thrown forward, very glad for the invention of seatbelts. They stopped suddenly, and a grunt was pulled from his lungs as the impact jarred him.

 _“Out!”_ Steve ordered, unfastening his belt and kicking out any remaining glass from the front window, before grabbing Clint and Natasha by their shirts and hauling them out of the car, on to the bonnet.

Of course, they landed gracefully; riding out the impact and landing on their feet like cats, weapons instantly drawn and pointed down the corridor.

Steve followed, jumping out and then beginning to run down the hall, shield gripped firmly at his side and handgun in the other.

“You know the plan. Find the surveillance office, shut it down, and then look for Tony. Keep in touch,” he called out to them, tapping on his comm before turning back around and sprinting down the stairs on the far end of the hall.

There was nothing on the stairwell, so Steve leapt down, blocks at a time. Alarms were blaring everywhere; distant yells could be heard mingled in with the sound of gunfire. All in all- it was pretty hectic.

Not that Steve was bothered. He had one thing on his mind, and one thing only.

_Find Tony._

Creeping around the corner, he winced upon seeing twenty or more guards, barreling straight toward the stairwell he was on with their guns raised and visors down. Steve had nothing more than five seconds before they were going to spot him- he had to think fast.

God, this was so cliché. Clint would be proud of him.

Rolling his eyes and sighing irritably, he retraced his footsteps up one flight of stairs; until he reached the grate of a vent he’d spotted on the way down. It was small- but would probably just about fit him in.

Leaping off the walls, he grabbed at the grate and yanked, feeling it give way under his hand. Using the one spare arm, he hauled himself up (thank god for superstrength) and only just managed to bring up his hanging feet by the time HYDRA charged up the stairs.

Unable to see thanks to the fact that he’d crawled in facing the wrong way, he had to rely on hearing alone to determine when it was finally safe to get down.

“Hawkeye, Widow- how’s it going?” He whispered, as he shuffled backwards and dropped back down on to the stairwell silently.

“Juuust peachy, Cap,” Clint answered gruffly. He sounded out of breath, and there was a small scuffle on his end as he undoubtedly took out yet another guard.

“We’re coming up to the surveillance room right now- we’ll have an exact location for you soon, Cap,” Natasha added.

Steve didn’t reply, instead choosing to press himself up into a corner as another three guards ran past, all yelling in Russian. Steve was just grateful these people didn’t wear comms like the Avengers, or they surely would have been alerted to his position.

Stepping out of the corner once the danger had passed, he continued to walk down the long, darkened corridor. Everything about this place was eerie; and it was setting Steve on edge.

“Steve? We’ve got it.”

“Where?” Steve hissed, as he walked further down the corridor, shield and gun raised.

“Floor 4, room 8,” Natasha spoke.

 

Steve stopped dead.  
In front of door number eight. On the fourth floor.

That was lucky.

 

“Meet me here. Now” was the last thing Steve said to them, before suddenly the lights went out and he was plunged into darkness.

Uncaring of whether he’d been made or not, Steve blindly kicked open the door, his sensitive eyes allowing him to see a little, even in darkness.

He was holding on to Captain America by the very threads now; too overcome by the wild panic and blind fury that was Steve Rogers to care about anything but finding Tony, and saving Tony, and then kissing every mark and bruise that Steve was to blame for, until they all went away.

The door was difficult and stiff- but Steve was very strong and very determined. He’d forced it open in under seven seconds.

 

Once entering the room, there were three things Steve noticed very quickly.

One: Tony was there.  
Two: There were some sort of metal bars in the middle of the room that separated them.  
Three: They were not alone.

Unfortunately, he only realized the third fact once one of them had snuck up behind him and stuck a needle in his neck. Immediately, Steve whipped around and shot him three times; twice in the chest, one in the head, before shoving him off.

 

He wasn’t taking any prisoners or sparing any lives. Not today. He didn’t have time for that.

 

At the same time he was firing, he was also pulling the needle out as fast as he could, but the damage was done. The tube was now empty.  
He processed the information quickly and then discarded it.

Irrelevant. Unnecessary. There was only one thing Steve cared about, and he was looking right at it.

 

“Tony,” he choked, walking forward a few steps and ignoring the odd woozy feeling in his head that hit him like a sudden wave as he moved.

God; where the fuck were Clint and Natasha?

He quickly surveyed the damage they’d inflicted on his boyfriend, and immediately regretted it.  
Tony was… a mess. Barely conscious, blood dripping everywhere; pooling around the chair he was tied to. His arm and ankle were now definitely broken, and from the way he was bent over and wheezing, it looked as if there were a few ribs gone, too.

Steve had no idea how he was going to get Tony out.  
(Steve had no idea if Tony was even going to survive that long)

“Oh my God, baby,” he whispered, taking another step and reaching to pull away the bars that separated them.

He had no idea they were electrified until the current sent him flying backwards a few meters and caused his whole body to tense up in agony.

Across the room, Tony could do no more than whimper and shake his head as much as could. He was clearly slipping in and out of consciousness, and… oh, _fuck,_ Steve sensed that all-too-familiar feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach as he watched the light in Tony’s chest flicker for a moment too long to be normal.

Steve didn’t know what to do. Tony… God, if they tried to get him out, he wouldn’t make it. If they left him there, he wouldn’t make it.

 

Steve should never have let him walk out alone. He should never have had that stupid argument in the first place. He should have thought of a better plan than this, he should have done something, _anything_ that might have been enough to prevent them from ever getting to this point-

 

Fighting back the urge to whimper, Steve got back on to his shaky legs from his place on the floor.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, baby, _I swear,_ we’ll figure something out,” he promised desperately, feeling the edges of hysteria in his voice as he took another step toward the bars before remembering what had happened last time.

_Think. Think. Use your brain, Rogers, come on!_

But his brain wasn’t working quite so well any more. It felt sluggish and cottony, just like the rest of his body- not like the way it had earlier, but more like… more like he’d been sedated.

 _Which I probably was-_ he thought, as a hand traced the spot the needle had punctured his skin.

On anyone else, that would have almost certainly knocked them out flat. Steve could be grateful for that silver lining, at least.

 

 _“You made quite an entrance there- I’m impressed. I must admit, that wasn’t what I was expecting,”_ came the same voice Steve had heard an hour and a half ago, this time blaring through a speaker somewhere in the room.

Steve turned wildly, trying to find the source, but it only set him off balance and made him stumble to the floor, his knees hitting the stone with a dull thump.

“Let him go. You’ve got me- now let him go. That was the deal,” he mumbled in reply.

All he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. He was so, so tired. But Tony was still there, and he was still so very hurt, and Steve still hadn’t killed enough people to make up for that yet, which needed to change.

The thought of anyone putting a hand on Tony made him sick to the stomach- and it was that rage that drove him back to his feet, clutching tightly on the strap of his shield like it was the thing holding him up.

 _“Oh, well Captain America- you did not uphold your end of the bargain, did you, so why should I uphold mine?”_ the voice told him sweetly, and Steve growled.

“What the fuck? I’m right here, you can take me- goddamn it, do whatever the fuck you want with me, I don’t care, just… _please,_ let him go,”

_“Well, for starters, I asked you to come alone. If the pile of bodies with arrows in them is anything to go by, you brought at least one friend. Also- this wasn’t exactly a surrender, now, was it?”_

“Listen-“

 _“No, you listen,”_ the voice hissed, it’s tone making the speaker crackle with static, “I’m giving you one last chance. The real test, let’s say-“ the voice cut off suddenly and a new noise followed it.

This one was in the room, and Steve turned around to watch as a man of roughly his size stepped into the room, smiling menacingly across at him.

 _“If you can kill him- I’ll let Stark go. Good luck,”_ and then the voice cut out.

There was silence in the room.

Steve eyed the switchblade as it glinted dangerously in the half-light, and stood as straight as he could manage.

The man caught his eye, and he shrugged. “Sorry. Job’s a job, after all.”  
Then he lunged.

Steve deflected with a swipe of his shield, but the guy was fast, and he avoided a broken wrist easily, swinging around to land a solid punch on his jaw that sent him stumbling, stars bursting behind his eyes as the drug in his system sent his balance way off-kilter. Steve used the momentum to turn and kick out, but he mistimed, and instead just stumbled through the air as the man dove out of the way.  
Before Steve could even regain the balance he’d lost from the move, the man came at him again, this time with a swing at his legs. From that angle, he wouldn’t be able to move the shield and cover it in time, so he just jumped on instinct; flying high into the air and using it as an opportunity to strike out fast, hitting the man square in the face.

It worked well- except when Steve fumbled the landing, and fell to the floor awkwardly, hitting his head on the concrete as he went down.

The world spun and everything went white for a second, but Steve fought to stay conscious. He could still see the chair Tony was tied to, and it was enough to fight off any idea of rest.

Not until Tony was safe.

But the man recovered quickly- quicker than Steve in his drugged-up state, and before Steve could even get to his feet again, the man had punched him in the face and brought down the knife into the middle of his chest.

Wildly, a hand deflected the blade somewhere else, pure survival instinct keeping him alive now that every other sense had deserted him.

It saved him from a knife to the heart- but that blade had to go somewhere, and Steve had just directed it a little further down.  
He felt the air freeze in his throat as the knife pierced his middle, and then gasped in shock and agony when it was pulled right out again.

 

He couldn’t do this.

 

He couldn’t fight any more. He’d been drugged and impaled and he was pretty sure that he’d done something pretty fucking bad to his wrist when he’d fallen over.  
He was on his last drains of energy- the guy was coming at him with that sharp knife again, and this time Steve wasn’t sure if he could stop it.

He couldn’t do this. He just wanted to shut his eyes and let the sleep take hold of him.

 

Except even when he blinked, all he could see was that footage playing over and over, on a loop in his brain.  
Tony- screaming through a gag, tears streaking down his cheeks as he shuffled uselessly away from whatever it was off-screen that Steve couldn’t see.

 

…He could do this.

 

The man had his guard down now; Steve looked pretty much dead, anyway. He was just going to bring his hand down and push, no defensive measures necessary.

Steve could use that.

He waited. He waited until the man was above him, one hand gripping the fabric of Steve’s collar whilst the other drew to it’s full height, ready to arc down into his chest- and then rolled with all the power left in him.

It was agony. Everything felt as if it were burning; every muscle and tendon in his body. The wound in his middle was excruciating enough to make him black out for a second.

But only a second. He still had control.

He was on top now, straddling the man’s waist as one hand pinned down the knife and another swung upward, coming down on the guy’s temple.

God, he was going to knock himself out before he could finish.

 _Keep going keep going keep going keep going keep going keep going-_ over and over in his head like a mantra, as he brought his fist down yet again. And again and again and again, five, six, seven times, as the man punched back with his free hand and attempted to get free of Steve’s grip.

It was too late now, though. Steve fired one last punch at the man’s temple, and then watched numbly as his attacker’s eyes rolled and his body went limp.

 

He didn’t want to move, or think, or speak or do anything. If he did, he was pretty sure he’d collapse.

 

The injured wrist he’d used to hold down the knife was definitely worse now; maybe a break, maybe a sprain. But it was cut to shreds, too- the knife had made easy work of his skin. He was bleeding heavily on to his hand.

There was… a lot of blood. It was probably mostly his.

With a small sigh, Steve dropped.

 

“That was… remarkable. You’ve doomed yourself in the process, but… still remarkable,” it was the voice again. Except this time it was clearer- as if it were in the same room.

 

There was a grinding sound, and the man who owned the voice that had been taunting Steve this whole time walked from the entrance and over to Tony- apparently having lifted up the bars remotely as he’d wandered.

“Let- let him…go,” Steve rasped, cracking open a swollen eye and tilting his head until he made out the blurry shape of a figure stood over Tony. Their hand was in his hair- holding his head up.

There was silence in the room once more, and Steve waited, listening to the frantic whimpers that were being coughed up into the tape on his lover’s mouth.

Steve waited.

 

“Nope. Sorry- I was lying, earlier. Unlucky.”

 

The man pulled a gun from his pocket, and lifted it to Tony’s head.

Steve was pretty sure he was running purely on willpower alone now, because there was nothing else left for him to possibly give. He had a single second before Tony got a bullet in his brain.

Tony himself was wild; trying hopelessly to free himself from the rope that bound him only to be pulled back by the hair once more. Steve screamed his name, and Tony’s eyes fell on him.  
He could see the tears that were falling down his face, and the manic shaking of his head as he begged Steve with his eyes to do something, _anything_ at all.

Blindly sliding his hand over the knife that rested in the dead man’s fingers, he pulled it up and flung it, praying to God his aim was still true.

 

Life passed by in slow motion.

 

Steve watched it spin through the air, a graceful curve that cut through the room and glinted when the light bounced off it.

He kept his eyes on it as it buried itself inside the man’s head, and watched in satisfaction as he crumpled and fell instantly.

 

He heard the gun fire anyway.

 

 

Time stood still.

 

___

 

_“Hey babe?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_Tony rolled over from his side of the bed, until his chin was resting on Steve’s shoulder and his hair was poking at Steve’s cheek. Steve looked down amusedly at him; sleepy and clingy, a crease on his cheek from where his head had been smushed against the pillow and Jesus- it was times like these when it hit Steve how much he loved him, every single fucking inch._

_“If I ever… If I ever die- you gotta promise me you’ll be okay. Please…promise me that, Steve.”_

_Steve’s eyes widened, and he looked down incredulously at his boyfriend, who was keeping his eyes firmly locked on Steve’s ear as his fingers played an absent-minded tune against his chest._

_“I- what? Tony, are you okay? You’re not- you’re not dying, are you, oh my god-“_

_“No, no, hey- sorry. I’m fine, don’t worry,” Tony hurriedly pressed his hand up to Steve’s face as he jolted up in bed, turning to look over his boyfriend for injury. “I just… I was thinking about it. Because you know our line of work is dangerous on a quiet day, and the thought of you doing something stupid because you blame yourself or whatever just- kinda terrifies me, to be honest.”_

_Tony paused, and he stroked a thumb across Steve’s cheekbone softly, eyes wide and serious in a way Steve really saw in Tony.  
“Promise, Steve.”_

_God- Steve loved him. With his stupid 1am thought processes and fluffy bedhead and huge round eyes as he asked Steve to be okay with him dying._

_He huffed, and leant down a little, until he was resting on top of Tony, arms winding around his waist and holding him close as Steve buried his head into Tony’s neck and shut his eyes.  
He didn’t even want to think about that. _

_“It’ll never come to that, Tony. Ever.”_

_“You seem very sure of that.”_

_“I am. Because you’re mine, and I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”_

 

___

 

“…No,”

 

 

Steve moved. He didn’t know how. He just did.

 

Tony’s head was lolling forward like it did when he accidentally fell asleep sat up. If Steve ignored the rhythmic dripping of red down the side of his face, it could almost be like they were at home.

 

___

 

_“Tony, no.”_

_“What was that? Tony, yes? Because that’s what I heard,” Tony said brushing Bruce’s words aside as he whizzed around the kitchen, preparing his 12th coffee of the day._

_He was manic and positively vibrating; the caffeine was the only thing keeping him upright at all, and not even Bruce was managing to persuade him to stop and sleep. Tony did this sometimes, after failed missions. He worked and worked and worked, avoiding sleep and food and the vicious reporters as he holed himself up in his shop and thought of eight thousand new inventions that would make sure the same thing would never happen again._

_He was close to breaking point._

_“Tony, please- this is not healthy, I am worried for you-“ Thor tried to persuade him, stepping forward to attempt at wrestling the mug out of Tony’s grip._

_The engineer hissed, (hissed!) and stumbled back, a look of horror on his face. Thor raised his arms in a show of peace, and hurriedly retreated. You did not fuck with Tony and his coffee when he was like this; not unless you wanted to die._

_“Stark- you can put the coffee down, or you can get an arrow up the ass. Your choice,” Clint told him bluntly, as Natasha wordlessly handed him an arrow out of the magical invisible pockets of hers that appeared to store everything and anything._

_“The arrows I made? Yeah- if you ever want them again, then they’re not going to be going anywhere near me,” tony told him breezily, stopping to kiss Natasha’s cheek before she could react and then hurrying away back to the coffee machine, cackling wildly as she whipped around._

_“Listen- much as I appreciate the concern, I am not going to stop. Once I have inhaled this cup of coffee directly through my nose, I am going back to the lab. Nothing you can say is going to make me stop, okay, can we please just make that clear-“_

_“Tony?”_

_He froze at the coffee machine, eyes widening a little as a tired Steve wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and looking at the group in confusion._

_“Hah! Busted,” Natasha whispered gleefully, as she high-fived Bruce._

_“Hi Steve- I’m just making myself a drink, go back to bed, babe,” Tony rushed, hands beginning to move again as he fumbled for a cup with shaking hands._

_Steve watched him move for three seconds, before his eyes flickered to the team in wordless question. After various headshakes and eye-rolls in reply, Steve sighed tiredly and walked forward, hands curling around Tony’s own before they could pour out the coffee._

_“Tony. Stop.”_

_Tony paused, eyes widening in panic as he shook his head viciously. He began to attempt at continuing, but Steve let his hands drop around Tony’s waist and pull him in, until his head was resting on Steve’s chest and his hands couldn’t help but pull around Steve in reply._

_“Please, Tony. Stop.”_

_“No- I gotta… I gotta…Yeah. Okay. Yeah,” Tony whispered in reply, before his legs suddenly gave out and he slumped into Steve, completely unconscious._

_Steve had almost certainly known it was coming, because his hands were gripping Tony’s waist tightly, holding him up with little effort. He looked around at the others and shook his head, smiling lightly and whispering goodnights to them all, before gently hauling Tony up into his arms and carrying the man off to bed, his head tucked neatly up against Steve’s chest._

_“You’re an idiot,” he whispered at the sleeping body in his arms, before pressing a kiss on top of all those curls and continuing up to their room._

 

___

 

“Come on baby…wake up…”

 

God-there was so much blood. His hands left red stains against Tony’s cheeks, arms, fingers. He was undoing the bonds that kept him upright.

He didn’t know why. He just did.

 

“Tony…honey, I love you, c’mon, don’t… don’t leave me…”

 

Steve undid the last knot. Tony slumped forward into his arms. Steve caught his unresponsive body before it could hit the floor.

 

He was asleep. It’s like every time Tony crashed, after too long in the lab or too many nights of no rest. And Steve would hold his arms open a little, and Tony would just fall into them, mumbling incoherently for a few seconds before sighing in contentment and allowing Steve to carry them off to bed. Straight to sleep.

 

Like now. Like how he was now.

 

Steve sat on his knees, softly letting shaking fingers stroke through the wet strands of Tony’s hair. It was less soft than usual… felt a little shorter, too.

He should have paid more attention, really.

 

It didn’t matter any more.

 

Tony wasn’t sleeping. Tony was dead.  
It was Steve’s fault.

One arm was wrapped around Tony’s shoulders, and the other curling into its rightful place around his waist. Steve’s hand still fell on the jut of his hip like it had been made to fit there.

 

Tony was dead.

 

Tony was dead and Steve was just numb. All the physical pain just felt somehow disassociated with him- probably just overshadowed by the emotional torture. He was holding Tony’s broken body up with a snapped wrist and he didn’t even notice. It wasn’t important.

 

Tony was dead.

 

Things were blurring in the corners of his eyesight, and that was it now. He’d done everything he could.

It hadn't been enough.

 

Softly, so very softly- he lifted Tony’s head up, pressing a tiny kiss against his forehead.

Everything felt too still. Tony was never still. Tony bounced and twitched and hummed and breathed.

“I love you. I love you. I love-“

 

Everything faded into black before he could finish.


	2. Chapter 2

On the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, Tony’s eyes blinked open.

 

“Urghhhh,” he hissed, rolling over to the side and feeling the icy press of snow as his cheek sunk to the ground.

Everything hurt like a bitch.

He guessed he’d only been out for half a minute or so; there were still small pieces of debris floating down to earth around him- the remains of what had used to be a car. He rolled again, until he was facing the other way.  
Certainly didn’t look much like a car now.

With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself into sitting position and took in his surroundings, fighting off the dizziness that came with braining yourself on the concrete.

Well. The people who’d kidnapped him had certainly been seen to, that was for sure. The car they’d stuffed him in was now nothing more than a mangled, flaming inferno at the side of the road; bonnet and front seats totally crushed up against a huge tree they’d ploughed into.

Tony had barely escaped that fate himself. He shuddered at the thought. Burning alive was definitely _not_ his idea of fun.

Although to be honest, he wasn’t exactly having the time of his life right now anyway. When he’d wandered off after fighting with Steve a few days ago, he definitely hadn’t been expecting to get snatched up by five assholes in the middle of new York.

Especially after having that argument about Steve protecting him. God, that was just _embarrassing._

But hey- at the end of the day, he was currently alive on the side of a road, and his kidnappers were very much not.

 

So yeah. Suck it, Steve.

 

He’d managed to pickpocket a walkie-talkie from one of the mercenaries while they’d thrown him on plane and taken him to God knows where, and from that, he’d sent out a signal to JARVIS in binary. After that, it was a simple case of waiting for a good opportunity to escape.

After the hideous 10-hour plane ride that he'd been unconscious for most of, they’d bundled him in the back of the car with two guys guarding him; their guns resting threateningly in their hands. One of them was lighting a cigarette, while the other was glancing out of the window at the rather spectacular view they were seeing from the mountain.

There had been a bottle of deodorant stored in the cup holder in between the two front seats. The car obviously hadn’t been prepped for a hostage- probably just stolen off a street in the middle of nowhere.

Tony was just embarrassed he’d been kidnapped by such amateurs, to be honest.

It had taken nothing short of five seconds for him to grab the lighter the guy on his left was using for his cigarette and then dive for the bottle.  
After that- well- it had all been rather manic. For starters, at least two of the five thugs ended up getting set on fire. In the panic, Tony had managed to snatch up a gun and dive into the front of the car, shooting both driver and shotgun in little under two seconds.

Everything had been on fire and the car had started spinning out of control and Tony had to admit, he probably should have thought the plan through a little better.

And then the car was bouncing off the road and Tony had about three seconds to kick open the door and throw himself out, whilst trying not to breathe in the toxic smell of smoke or burning flesh.

He managed. Only just. And he had a hell of a road rash to prove it.

Luckily, the protective undersuit he wore 24-7 had done some help in avoiding major injuries that would have almost certainly come with hauling oneself out of a moving vehicle, but he’d still managed to knock himself out and possibly break a wrist in the process.

Plus, he was freezing.

He knew he was in Russia. His kidnappers had let it slip when they’d been talking on the plane. He also knew that the people who had kidnapped him weren’t actually HYDRA themselves, thanks to the unusual lack of logo on the side of their arms that was commonplace amongst their ranks- but they mentioned the name too many times for them to have nothing to do with the organization. Tony was guessing at mercenaries- although it was unlikely he’d ever find out now, he thought, looking at the car with a shudder.

So; he’d been kidnapped, and transported to the same place that Steve, Nat and Clint were. By people who were affiliated with HYDRA in some way or another.

Tony didn’t even need to be a genius to figure out the correlation between those facts.

“Jesus Christ, JARVIS, hurry the fuck up,” Tony muttered rubbing his hands up and down his arms as he shivered on the ground.

The suit was probably still half an hour out, considering how far it had had to travel. And Tony couldn’t exactly start walking anywhere- the suit was following the GPS signal from the walkie-talkie, and obviously considering that the device was now no more than a melted lump of plastic, JARVIS would simply direct the suit to the most recent point of activity.

So Tony was just going to have to sit and wait. Brilliant.

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Steve.

 

It was obvious HYDRA had some sort of plan involving them all. Tony was going to have to break radio-silence and call him, but who knew if it would be too late by the time Tony got to his suit?

He wished he’d never told Steve… _that._

Because he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t- fuck- he couldn’t even _imagine_ breaking up with Steve. It had been stupid and irrational and Tony had never even meant to say it _at all._

He’d been angry, yeah. And they’d been in the wrong place and the wrong time for him to bring it up; but he’d been planning on being a hell of a lot gentler than that.

And it wasn’t even as if Tony couldn’t understand. Tony knew what had happened before, with all the people Steve had lost. Steve didn’t want to take that chance again. Tony knew that.

Steve didn’t know about Ty.

God- it had been _so stupid,_ for Tony to even try and compare the two of them. Ty and Tony had been young and stupid and Ty had always been a selfish piece of shit. Steve was nothing like that.

But… they’d been in Boston. And for the most part, Tony hadn’t even been thinking about it. The memories that usually came back to him whilst visiting the place he’d spent his misguided college years were being drowned out by Steve’s presence. Tony had barely even registered the uncomfortable memories that went side by side with the city as he walked down the streets, hand in hand with Steve.

 

Then Steve had tugged him over to the other side of the pavement, and Tony had been hit with a strong sense of déjà vu when the words ‘ I just want to keep you safe’ had left his mouth.

 

 

 

___

 

 

 

_“I’m going out to Rhodey’s- I’ll see you in a few hours.”_

_From their bed, Ty frowned, putting down his pencil and looking disapprovingly up at Tony. “He’s the one that’s throwing a party, isn’t he?”_

_“Yeah- you can come, if you want?”_

_“I can’t. I’ve got to work. And, to be honest, Tony, you should too. I don’t… I don’t like the thought of you being there on your own, but I can’t come. Are you sure you really want to be there?”_

_Tony stopped, brow furrowing in confusion. “Well, yeah? I got the assignment finished ages ago. Plus, I mean, it’s Rhodey-“_

_“Yeah, and a hundred other drunk strangers that are a lot older than you, Tony. Flirting with you, and dancing with you. I just… I worry, that’s all. I want to keep you safe,”_

_Tony softened, as he always did when Ty fed him that line to mask every other intention he had, and he walked back over to the bed, stroking a hand through Ty’s hair gently._

_“I’ll be fine, trust me. I’m just going to be with Rhodey the whole night, anyway-“_

_“Stay.” It wasn’t a question._

_Tony didn’t want to stay. He wanted to go and hang out with his friend. He wanted to-_

_“Please. Don’t… don’t make me unhappy,” Ty said, more softly this time._

_Tony felt himself get tugged back down, and he went without much fuss. If he left anyway, then Ty would only get pissed off with him._

_It was fine. Ty was just worried about him. He should be happy._

_He wasn’t._

 

 

 

___

 

 

 

 

And… yeah, okay- he kinda took that out on Steve.

 

He groaned into his good hand and shuffled as close as he dared to the flames licking at the car, trying to warm himself up.

 

He wished he’d apologized before Steve had left.

 

It had been so long ago now; Tony hadn’t even realized it was still a problem for him. Yeah- he’d always had his own set of weird control issues, and the day he let his partner govern where he went and who he saw ever again would be the day hell froze over- but he wasn’t obvious about it. It was just a part of who he was.

Being in a relationship with Ty had been imprisoning, and he’d promised himself, _never_ again. But being with Steve was… well, the exact opposite. Yet he still couldn’t stop himself from running his goddamn mouth at nothing more than a brief memory of an ancient relationship.

And now Steve was probably in danger. Great.

 

He curled up tighter in on himself, feeling every friction burn on his body stretch and release a zing of pain. The snow helped ease the burning sensation a little, bit it was also bitingly cold and soaking into the tattered remains of his clothes.

He guessed he had about ten minutes before the hypothermia started setting in. JARVIS had better hurry up.

Luckily, it seemed as soon as he thought the words, JARVIS answered his call, as Tony looked up in relief when he heard the gloriously familiar sound of repulsors cutting through air and watched as his beautiful, warm suit arced through the sky, curving around the side of the mountain and homing in on Tony’s heat signature.

“That’s it darling. Come to daddy,” he grinned, splaying his hands out and giving a little wave as the suit dropped lower and lower until it landed on the road with a heavy clang in Tony’s usual finishing flourish; one hand fisted on the floor with the knees bent.

“Lovely to see you in one piece, sir,” JARVIS spoke through the mouthpiece, and Tony beamed as he pulled himself off the ground and stepped toward the suit, which had opened up for him.

“Didn’t you get the memo, J- I don't die. Dying's for losers. Take more than a few thugs to get rid of me,” he answered, as the suit closed around him and he felt the lovely sensation of warm air as JARVIS compensated for his low body temperature.

Almost as soon as Tony was safe within his suit, JARVIS was getting straight to the point. “Sir, I’m afraid I have some bad news,”

Tony paused, caught off guard by the seriousness of JARVIS’ tone. “Hit me,”

“Forty minutes ago, Agent Romanov sent out an emergency callout to the Avengers Tower and SHIELD. They sent in their coordinates, and told Bruce and Thor to come immediately. Sir- they appear to have been informed that you are currently in HYDRA’s hands.”

Tony stopped, eyes narrowing in wariness. “Relay the whole message to me, J,”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Tony saw the message pop up on his HUD.

_We’ve been made. HYDRA has Ironman. Appears to have been subjected to torture. Bring med team+ backup a.s.a.p. - BW_

_“What?”_ tony asked incredulously, “I… I _do not_ look like I’ve been subjected to torture. They barely even hit me. Where the hell are they getting that from?”

“Sir, if I may suggest talking and flying at the same time-“

Tony blinked a few times, still trying to process the oddness of this situation, before taking flight and shooting into the air, letting JARVIS guide him to the coordinates sent by Natasha.

“My best guess is that they were sent some form of ‘evidence’ in order to make them believe it was you. Perhaps an image was sent while you were being transported here.”

Tony shook his head; “no, they’d have needed something better than just a photograph. It would have to be definite proof. A video- they’re a lot harder manipulate. JARVIS, hack their comms. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Of course, sir,”

There was another bout of silence as JARVIS worked and Tony flew, and then a sudden burst of static filled his ears, making him wince.

What the hell had those animals done to his poor comms?

“Cap?Hawkeye? Widow? You reading me?” He spoke loud and clear down the line.

There were audible gasps over the static, and then the sound of muffled bangs.

 _“Tony?”_ Came the disbelieving voice of Natasha.

“The one and only,” he replied, twisting upward into the sky and going high above the mountains as he flew. “First thing’s first- whatever you saw, it’s not me. I’m fine, I’m unhurt. They tried to take me a few days ago, but I kicked ass and got out. They never actually managed to get me to my intended destination. Secondly- I can only tap in to yours and Hawkeye’s comms. What happened to Steve? Is he okay?”

Natasha paused, taking all the information in, and Hawkeye took the opportunity to speak up. “He’s a few floors down from us, but we can’t reach him either. We’ve got visual from some CCTV footage we’re looking at, though. There’s some sort of signal blocker as you go down the floors, I think. How far out are you, Tony?”

“About seven minutes, at this rate, I’ll be with you--wait-- I’m sorry, hold up a minute- where the fuck are you? Please tell me you’re not… oh my God; _you’ve gone after me,_ haven’t you? You walked yourselves into a goddamn trap-“

“We thought you were dying in there! What choice did we have?” Natasha said irritably, and then there was a muffled hiss and scuffle before she came back on the line. “Steve was going to go after you, trap or no trap, anyway.”

Tony groaned, and felt his heart speed up as the worry started setting in. “Oh- _fuck_ \- are you holding out? Do you know where Steve even is?”

“We’re blocked in the surveillance room, they’ve got us surrounded. Steve…fuck…we’re watching him right now, he’s trying to get to you through the- oh, ouch, those bars are electrified,” Clint hissed, mostly to himself as he appeared to watch whatever footage available in the Surveillance office.

“He found me? Wait- are you saying there’s an _actual person with my face on in there?”_ Tony asked skeptically, whilst silently putting everything he had into the thrusters and giving him another spurt of energy.

“Yeah, we’re looking at you right now, and you don’t look good. Thank God it’s not really you; now all we have to do is find a way to send that message to Steve- oh, fuck, no, watch out!” Clint yelled, and Tony automatically did the first half of a barrel roll in the air, before realizing that Clint wasn’t talking to him.

“What? Hawkeye- what happened? Is Steve okay? Jesus fucking _Christ,_ JARVIS, what’s my _fucking_ ETA?” Tony hissed.

Natasha answered, “we have no idea, but someone’s just drugged him with something. I didn’t even see the guy, he was hiding behind the door,” just as JARVIS gave a clipped answer of “five minutes, sir,”

“The person who looks like me. Is it a projection? Can you turn it off from the surveillance office you’re in?” Tony asked sharply, sucking in a deep breath and willing himself to keep calm.

Steve would be fine. Steve was a supersoldier. It had to be a hell of a strong drug in order to effectively take him down.

Steve would be fine.

“Widow’s searching as we speak. It looks… I can’t see anywhere the image could be projected from though, Tony, so I don’t think that’s it.”

“Digital mask?”

“Best guess, yeah- ah, fucking shit, Tony, they’re setting grenades on the other side of our little hideout. Door’s reinforced, but it’s not gonna hold out- how far it did JARVIS say you were?”

“Four minutes, now. How’s Steve doing?”

“I think... he’s talking to someone? Not the person who’s pretending to be you, but someone else?”

“What? Is there anyone else in- oh, _for God’s sake,_ JARVIS, can you get me in? I need to see what’s going on,” Tony ordered.

“Sir- it’s a closed network, I am not sure-“

“Then open it up! We’ve already got enough of HYDRA’s tech in my goddamn lab, they all run on similar networks, just copy the frequency and see if it works!”

“On it, sir,”

“Widow, have you found a source?” He asked, while JARVIS worked.

“Negative. There’s no control switch here, Tony,”

“Oh _shit,_ Steve’s got company,” Clint told them both.

Tony was cut off from the both of them, as there was the sound of a massive explosion on their side of the line and all Tony could hear was another burst of static.

“Guys? Do you copy? Fuck, JARVIS, I want all my power on thrusters- all of it!” he yelled, before JARVIS could interrupt with something undoubtedly disapproving.

“Yeah…we’re okay- they just set off the first bomb. Door held, though,” Natasha muttered, after a few more seconds of silence, and Tony breathed his sigh of relief.

“Sir. Footage accessed,”

A small display popped up on the HUD, and Tony’s mouth dropped in horror as he watched an obviously sedated Steve get the crap beaten out of him by some seven foot monster, while the spitting image of him sat on the opposite side of the room and bled out on the floor.

Well. Fuck.

Tony felt the breath he took; sharp and shocked and fearful, cursing at every punch the guy threw at his lover.

“JARVIS!”

“Two minutes, sir,”

Tony growled; a mix of fury and panic. That was too long. Steve was getting hurt and the guy was fighting to kill- he wasn’t going to last two minutes.

“Hawkeye, Widow, what’s your situation?”

“Still just as trapped as we were a minute ago, Iron Man,” Natasha ground out.

Tony opened his mouth to say something scathing, but the words died in his throat as he watched Steve overbalance from a spinning kick and fall to the floor, hitting his head as he went.

“Steve- _fuck_ \- baby, just hold on,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the small video feed in the top right corner of his vision.

He was pushing Mach 5 as he flew, which was as fast as that suit could go, but it felt like he was barely walking.  
He was too slow- Steve was going to die because he was too slow, _oh, God-_

 

The man drove a knife into Steve’s stomach. Tony stopped breathing.

 

He felt himself teeter on the edge of complete hysteria- unable to stop watching the footage of Steve bleeding out on the floor, and the HYDRA operative prepare to take the killing shot.

 

He’d never get to tell Steve he was sorry.

 

Except Steve suddenly appeared to find some magical source of energy from whichever corner of his mind was still fighting, because one minute Tony was watching him in his final seconds as the knife glinted high above Steve’s chest- and the next, Steve was suddenly rolling them around and punching the ever-loving shit out of his attacker.

Which was surprise. But definitely a welcome one.

Steve drove his fist into the man’s face over and over, until eventually Tony watched in satisfaction as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went limp underneath Steve’s grip.

“Oh _thank God,”_ Tony exhaled, just as Natasha let out a single sigh of relief and Clint whooped.

“Sir, we are descending into the compound as we speak- brace yourself,” JARVIS instructed, and Tony felt the familiar pull on his stomach as they dropped.

Steve was going to be okay. Now that the threat had been neutralized, Tony could relax a little. He’d get to Steve, and it would be okay.

 

The video feed cut out.

 

“Widow?” He asked, the question in his tone.

“I… I’m not sure. We’ve got footage of everywhere else. It must have been switched off manually,” she answered.

There was the sound of yet another explosion, and Tony knew that he had to get to Clint and Nat before they ran out of time, too.

God. For someone who Steve deemed as ‘in need of protection’, he sure had to go around saving everyone else’s asses a lot.

“I’m coming in hot; be with you in about thirty seconds. Which room was Steve in?” Tony asked them, bringing up the floor plans that he’d pulled from SHIELD’s databanks and finding the surveillance room that Clint and Natasha were currently occupying.

“Floor 4, room 8,” Natasha shot off, and then there were muffled yells and the sound of gunfire, which Tony hoped was Clint’s. “If you wouldn’t mind hurrying up, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it,” Tony answered, before tensing his shoulders and smashing a second hole into the wall of the compound.

Rubble exploded around him, but the HUD cleared the way and he blazed through the room he’d entered, quickly scanning for threats before moving on.  
He spotted a truck that had been wedged into the entrance to a corridor, and let a laugh slip out of his mouth despite everything. He guessed that was the quickest way to his team.

Flying over the top, he carried on down the corridor, using the blueprints on his HUD to find the surveillance room. At his speed, it took little more than thirty seconds until he rounded the corner and saw a dozen guards with their weapons drawn and firing through the cracks in the door.

One well placed missile, and they were all taken care of.

He didn’t wait for anything other than two gruff mumbles of thanks down the comm before he was off again.

Clint and Natasha could look after each other. Steve needed Tony.

“JARV, fastest route?” He asked.

“Corridor to your left, sir,”

He spun, narrowly avoiding vaporising a passing guard as he flew around the next corner and dropped down a block of stairs. Everything was darker here, but Tony had no problem following the flight path JARVIS laid out for him until it led him right up to the concaved door of room eight.

Arms up and repulsors ready, he careered into the large room, searching for a threat.

But there was nothing. Just four bodies; two of them clearly HYDRA- the other two being Steve and his doppelganger.

“…Oh, _no,”_ Tony said, as he looked at them both.

Steve was curled up next to his twin; arms held loosely around his shoulder and waist, and legs tucked in against his side. The copy was… he was dead, that much was obvious. Tony could see the bullet-hole on his temple.

Steve had watched him die. And he thought…

“JARVIS. Suit release. Now,” he said quietly.

“Sir, I would strongly-“

 _“Now,”_ the word came out an awful lot more frantic now, and JARVIS didn’t answer- simply let him go.

The cold air hit him like a slap in the face, but he barely even noticed as he stumbled forward, the blood draining from his face with each step.

Steve thought… and he probably blamed himself. And Steve looked dead himself- _fuck_ \- he was bleeding so much, the wound on his stomach had soaked through everything he wore-

“Steve, baby, you with me? Tell me you’re with me, come on,” he whispered, falling to his knees next to Steve’s head and pressing two fingers against the side of his neck, while the other stroked the tear-tracks off his face.

He waited for two agonizing seconds, before feeling the weak pulse under the pads of his fingers and breathing in relief.

Okay. Good. Still beating. He could work with that.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, Steve, don’t worry,” he whispered, beginning to call the suit forward with a vague hand gesture.

The metal clanged on the ground as it walked, and Tony watched as Steve’s chest hitched a little and his eyes fluttered open, ever so slightly.

Barely conscious, heavily bleeding and ashen faced; Tony still thought that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen- those eyes- when he’d been so sure he wouldn’t ever get to look at them again.

“Hey, Stevie. How you holding up?” He asked softly, fingernails scraping ever so lightly through Steve’s wet hair as the suit began to open up once more.

Steve blinked at him a few times, before smiling a little. “Well- I’m dead, so I’d say I’ve been… been better,”

“I- _no,_ honey, you’re not dead. Neither am I. I’m alive, it wasn’t real, Steve- Steve? Hey, just stay awake a little longer, baby, come on-“ Tony tried, his thumbs stroking across Steve’s face as he tried to keep the man conscious.

But it was a futile effort. Steve was gone again, and the pool of blood wasn’t getting any smaller.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s- let’s get you out of here, darling,” Tony said gently, as he leant down and pressed a kiss to a wet cheek and then stood up, letting the suit engulf him immediately.

 

“It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he saw Tony.

 

That was the first indicator that he was dead.

He smiled. It was comforting, to know that Tony was still with him, even after death.

 

He shut his eyes again.

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

“Steve? You awake, baby?”

 

“Why am I in hospital?” Steve asked drowsily to Tony, who was lying next to him on the cramped hospital bed, holding his hand up against both of their chests.

“Because you got hurt, Steve. Badly. But you’re getting better now, and it’s gonna be okay. I’m here, and I’m not leaving. I’m sorry for making you ever think I was.”

Steve paused, letting the words sink in. It was dark around them, but the glow from Tony’s chest was enough to light up the whole room in that beautiful blue glow.

“Huh,” he said finally, leaning down a little to kiss the top of Tony’s hair the way he always did. “Sorry. I just… thought there’d be less pain up here, y’know?”

“What?”

“But it’s fine- you’re here. It’s fine,” he mumbled feeling his eyes drift shut again.

“Steve, no, you’re not dead, I promise-“

The words drifted out of reach, and Steve fell back into unconsciousness once more.

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

“How long until you can take him off the drugs?”

 

The doctor shrugged, and Tony felt himself bristle at the nonchalant action. “Until he is ready to be without them, Mr. Stark. We should start weaning him off them in a few days, but until then, the drugs stay.”

“I wasn’t implying they _shouldn’t,_ Doctor-“ Tony began irritably, until Bruce laid a calming hand against his arm and gave Tony a small shake of his head.

He sighed, and stared once more at the peacefully resting face of Steve, laid out on the hospital bed with every injury and mark on show.

He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for two days now- and every time, he would look at Tony like he wasn’t really there. Like he was some hallucination he’d created to lessen the pain.

Tony didn’t know how to convince him he was real. He guessed he would just have to wait until Steve was off the drugs, and thinking more rationally.

That could be days. Tony didn’t want him to think he was dead for days.

 

The person that Steve had watched die had been a civilian. They’d picked him off the street, decided he had the right body shape to be Tony Stark, and pulled a Digitalized Mask over his head, with tape around his mouth so he wouldn’t give the game away.

Tony never found out officially why HYDRA had kidnapped him, and then ‘kidnapped’ his lookalike and showed the fake one to Steve and the others- but Tony could guess.

They’d been going to kill the hostage, whatever happened. And no one would look for Tony when he was dead; they’d be able to hold Real-Him prisoner without interference from outside forces.

Probably to build things for them. Or to work on any of the serum they would have managed to extract from Steve, had their plan been successful.  
Didn’t matter now, anyway.

 

“Also, if I may add; he’s on drugs, but they are in no way hallucinogenic. In fact, they’re probably very mild for him. Any confusion he is having is most likely not even caused by the painkillers. They’re caused by the brain trying to cope with grief,” the doctor added gently.

 

Tony didn’t know how to reply to that, so he just reached for Steve’s hand once again and felt his pulse for reassurance.

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

He woke up, and it was dark again.

Tony was curled up by his side on the hospital bed, like he had been the last time.

 

He looked so peaceful. The soft blue light lit up his face, and Steve could see every detail about him in high definition. He was so beautiful.

 

Steve had let him die.

 

The thought wasn’t just a punch to the gut- it was like something blunt had been driven into his insides and twisted. It was an all-consuming pain, seconded only by the sheer force of grief that swept over him.

 

Steve had let him die.

 

He didn’t know why he was still seeing Tony; if this was heaven, or if it was just a hallucination of his- but either way, it didn’t make reality any less real for him. It didn’t make him forget what he’d done. His failures, his own stubborn pride, had resulted in this.  
He was never going to be able to see the real Tony Stark smile, or laugh, or just _live,_ ever again.

 

Steve had let him die.

 

 _“I’m so sorry,”_ he choked out, shutting his eyes and curling up around Tony, letting his hands wind around his waist and feel the warmth there. Real or not, it was still a comfort to feel.

The tears slid down his cheek and he bit down hard on his lip to try and stop the sudden outburst, but it was useless. The emotion was too strong, sending waves through his body as he cried into Tony’s hair.

Everything felt so familiar and so _real_ as he pressed his cheek into the soft curls. But Steve knew better. Steve had done this before, with everyone else he’d lost. They’d followed him, too, for the first few months.

Tony had become another number on the list of many people that Steve had let down.

“I’m so sorry, I love you, I love- I’m so- _so sorry,”_ he whispered again, unable to think of anything else apart from those two things.

Tony was stirring underneath him, his mumbled words of question becoming urgent and frantic as he heard Steve sob- but he couldn’t stop. It wouldn’t go away, the pain was almost unbearable, it was exhausting him already, and he could feel himself start to slip away again as the corner of his vision faded darker.

“Steve, honey, please don’t cry, I swear to you I’m okay, I _swear it,_ baby _please,_ just look at me-“

He couldn’t. Tony was dead.

 

And he was lost again.

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

After Tony had woken up to hear Steve crying and clutching at the sleeves of his jumper, saying nothing but the same broken string of apologies, he decided he had to go.

Whatever Steve was going through, him being there quite obviously wasn’t helping.

The others would look after him. Tony knew that. And then once Steve had started staying awake for more than minute-long periods, they’d be able to fully explain to him what had happened.

Tony could just wait in his workshop until that point. It was fine.

 

God, he was going to go mad if he spent another minute in there.

 

It had been two days since the night Steve had last been awake, and the team were giving him regular updates, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something more- he needed to be able to feel Steve under his own hand, to know for sure that he was okay.

And he was going to donate Dummy to the nearest public school he could find if that ridiculous bot didn’t stop trying to feed him goddamn motor-oil smoothies.

“Jesus, Dummy, that’s the _third goddamn time,_ will you cut it the fuck _out?”_ He snapped, after the bot rolled itself into his side once again.

Dummy beeped sadly and drooped, rolling backwards in dismay. Tony just looked on, unimpressed. “I’m not going to forgive you just because you look sad.”

Another few beeps in response. “No. Shut up. If you don’t want me to be mad at you, don’t annoy me.”

There was silence, and then a single, morose little beep. Tony rolled his eyes and swiveled on the chair, scooting forward to give Dummy an exasperated pat on the head. “Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just… Steve. You know.”

Dummy beeped, and Tony knew he meant _I do know. It’s okay._

“Thanks, bud,” he said softly.

He turned back to the gauntlet he was tinkering with, told JARVIS to turn up the music, and attempted to drown out all his worries.

It didn’t exactly work. An hour later, he threw down the gauntlet with a frustrated sigh, spinning around on his chair and letting head fall backward until he was looking up at the vast ceiling.

It had been a week since Steve had been home with him. And Tony missed him so much it hurt. He hadn’t had a decent meal since the time they’d fought, and he was pretty sure he’d managed to get about 7 hours of sleep over the past seven days.

He wanted Steve.

 _“Ugh,_ ” he hissed, rubbing a hand across his forehead as the headache throbbed. If Steve were with him, would be able to make it go away with a head massage and a glass of water- but Steve wasn’t there.

Steve was still in hospital, and certain that Tony was dead.

“Right. JARVIS, clean up for me, would you,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Certainly, sir. And may I ask that you attempt to rest for longer than a forty minute period this time- perhaps 10 hours would be healthier.”

Tony laughed. If JARVIS were capable, Tony knew he would have sighed.

 

“Night, J,”

“Goodnight, Sir.”

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

 

“Hey, look- Steve’s waking up again,”

 

Steve blinked a few times as he came around, trying to see through the darkness and pinpoint the person who had spoken.

As he focused in on the room around him, he noticed Clint and Bruce in the dim lighting, sat in the chairs to his left side, and smiled softly at the sight of his teammates. They both looked tired and scruffy- like they’d been sat there a long time, but they were grinning down at him and looking relatively unscathed. Steve was just glad to see them safe; he knew the moment he’d woken up that he was in a hospital, which meant there had to have been a fight of some sort...

Vaguely, he recalled the last few days. It was sort of hazy; the product of too many drugs and too much pain to fully pin down any particular memories. He’d been doing some boring stakeout, he knew that much-

 

And just like that, it hit him again.

 

“Oh…” he whispered, shutting his eyes as the thought consumed him once more.

The world was crashing in on him- he couldn’t hold on to anything, there was no grip anymore, _shit,_ Tony had been… Tony had been his anchor. Tony had been his everything.

Without him, what the hell was Steve supposed to do?

 

It was his fault.

 

“Steve! Hey- Steve, you’ve gotta calm down- _holy shit,_ his heartbeat’s going crazy, Clint, try calm him down, I need to get a nurse-“ he heard Bruce stumble upright, but didn’t see it. His eyes were clenched shut, hands covering his face from the rest of the world as he broke.

 

Tony was dead. Tony was _dead_ and Steve was _alive_ and it was _never supposed to be this way around,_ it was always going to be Tony who scraped out alive, not him, dying was his job, not-

 

“He’s alive! Steve, Tony is alive! The person you saw in there, it wasn’t him! Fuck, buddy, you gotta breathe, you’re gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack and then you’ll really never see him again,” Clint yelled, interrupting Steve’s descent into madness with a strong hand shaking at his arm.

“Don’t-“ Steve hissed, feeling the hot tears as they fell down his cheeks and onto the sheets.

Lying to him wasn’t going to make it go away. He didn’t need denial.

“Steve, I swear to you, I literally saw him this morning. He’s at the tower, safe as houses. They never even got him to the compound- the Tony Stark that they showed us was just a civilian wearing a digitalized mask- Steve, you gotta believe me here, I’m not lying!”

 

…What?

 

But Steve had- Steve had seen it. That had been Tony, he was… he was sure of it.

“Clint, I watched- I watched it happen. That was Tony. He… Jesus, Clint, they _shot him_ in front of me,” Steve choked, the words feeling as if they were eating him from the inside out.

“No! Nope, definitely not him. Believe me, I checked. Look,” Clint pulled a tablet off the desk and flicked it on, tapping a few times before shoving it in Steve’s face.

“That’s the guy they used instead of Tony. His name was Vadim Mikhailov; he was a factory worker in the village we were stationed at. Look- that’s the mask,” Clint explained hurriedly, pointing at an image down in the bottom right corner.

Steve let the images sink in, grabbing blindly for the tablet so he could have a closer look.

He didn’t understand. It was… he’d seen it. With his own two eyes. But…

 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered numbly, looking to Clint and hoping for an answer.

 

“Not dead, pal. Very much alive, and very worried about you. Only reason he’s not here right now was because you reacted, well, kinda badly to him when you saw him,” Clint said gently, his hand still gripping reassuringly at Steve’s arm.

Steve stared, open-mouthed, up at his friend. He knew Clint would never lie to him about this, but the meaning behind his words weren’t sinking in. They were just drifting at the forefront of his mind, unable to gain any depth.

He needed… fuck, he needed to see. To _know._

 

“Anyway, I’ll call him right this minute, and you can- whoa, hold up Steve, _fuck,_ no, don’t pull those out, what the fuck are you _doing,_ you’re injured!”

Steve ignored Clint’s yells of protest, continuing his yanking of all wires inserted in his body and then swinging his legs out of the cot, overlooking the dull pain that spiked through him at the motion.  
When Clint tried to stand in Steve’s way, he took Clint’s arm and threw him on to the hospital bed, before turning on his heel and running out of the doors, barging past a shocked Bruce as he went.

There were yells from behind him and the sound of running footsteps, but Steve was too fast to catch, and too focused to care about what they were saying.

 

He had to know. He had to know, he had to find out.

 

So he kept running.

 

 

 

__________

 

 

 

Tony woke up to the sound of JARVIS calling his name urgently, and he sat bolt upright in bed immediately, arms raised in preparation.

 

“JARVIS?” He asked hoarsely, still shaking off the deep sleep he’d been in.

“Sir, it appears Captain Rogers is now fully lucid once again, and-“

“Oh thank god,” Tony interrupted, sighing a breath of relief and slipping off the bed. For the first time in days, he felt as if he could breathe again, and a sense of calm had washed over him like something he hadn’t felt in-

“Ah- sir. He’s… he’s in the elevator as we speak,” JARVIS finished, and Tony’s train of thought ground to a painful halt.

Well. There went that sense of calm.

 _“What the fuck?”_ Tony squeaked, yanking himself up and scrambling to the door, his face set into an expression of utter disbelief. “What is he _doing?_ He’s got three broken ribs, a healing stab-wound, a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder and he’s in the _fucking tower?”_

“It… appears so, yes,” and even JARVIS sounded exasperated.

“Oh my fucking God, that man has _no_ sense of preservation at all, does he,” Tony cursed as he yanked open the door and hauled ass down the corridor.

“Not when it comes to you, no, I don’t think so,”

Tony didn’t answer, too busy jumping down the steps two at a time until he had reached the communal floor, just as the elevator doors slid open.

 

From across the room, Tony’s eyes met with Steve’s, and held there for a long time.

 

“Hey, babe,” he said softly, after a few beats of silence.

There was another pause, and then from across the room, Tony heard Steve’s voice, horribly quiet and scared as he called, “JARVIS? Please- can you… can you-“

“Judging from behavioral patters and bio-scans, it can be concluded that this is indeed Anthony Edward Stark, otherwise known as Iron Man, born on May 29th 1970, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS answered, his voice crisp and firm as always.

Steve’s eyes widened minutely, and his lips parted as he stared at Tony, who, other than a few fading road-rash marks, looked nothing other than sleep-mussed, and very much alive.

“You didn’t…”

“I didn’t.” Tony paused. “Steve, I’m so sorry, about everything. About- whoa whoa whoa, Steve, your _arm-_ don’t- _oomph!”_

The breath was knocked clean out of him as Steve sprinted across the room in little under two seconds and threw himself into Tony, his arms gathering Tony up desperately as they clutched on the fabric of his (Steve’s) pajama shirt. Tony attempted to take steps backward to balance them out, but quickly gave that pursuit up as Steve’s weight tipped them both over, landing them on the floor with jarring thud as Tony fell on his knees, and then his side, as Steve kept pushing himself forward into Tony.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” Tony whispered, fingers stroking soothingly in Steve’s hair as the man buried his face into Tony’s neck and began breathing shaky, cut off gasps that quickly turned into full on sobs, wracking through Steve’s whole body as he broke down against Tony’s shoulder.

“I- I thought-“

“I know. I’m so sorry, honey, I’m so fucking sorry- about everything. About what I said before, about not being there when you woke up. I’m so- I’m just _so glad_ you’re okay,” Tony murmured, his own voice wavering dangerously close to breaking as he pressed his mouth against the top of Steve’s head and let his arms wrap tightly around Steve’s neck, pulling him as close as he would fit.

Steve clutched desperately, his arms almost painfully tight around Tony’s waist, and he shook his head. “Tony, I watched you- I watched you _die._ I thought I’d never see you again, and I’m not... I didn’t know what I was gonna do,” he admitted in a tiny voice, cracked and broken from crying.

Tony shut his eyes and winced. It was going to take a long time for Steve to get over it- lord knows how he would react if he had been put in that position. The nightmares were going to be a bitch to deal with, too.

It didn’t matter. He’d be there, and they could deal with that together.

Gently leaning back and lifting Steve’s head up with his hands, he kissed the tears off Steve’s face and let his mouth linger in the other man’s space as his hands held Steve’s face close, thumbs stroking softly along the sharp outline of his cheekbones.

“You won’t ever have to. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I told this to JARVIS, and I’ll tell it you too. I don't die. Dying is for losers. Walked into a cave with a hole in my chest and faced with the prospect of certain death, walked out as Iron Man, remember?” Tony said, chuckling to himself as Steve smiled and then let his head fall back down into the juncture of Tony’s neck.

“Tony, you can’t just fucking _say_ shit like that, not when you’d been kidnapped off the street a week ago! They could just as easily have- have killed you. I can’t-“

“Steve,” Tony cut him off, gentle but firm as his hands ran soothing strokes down Steve’s back as he leant against him, “we need to talk about this. And we will. At length. But we’re gonna do it another time. For now, I just need you to know that it took six of them to subdue me, and I managed to take four of them out in the process. They had me for two days, before I busted out. It wasn’t even _hard.”_

“They could have just shot you, Tony.”

“Yeah. They could. But they could do the same to you too, and neither of us would be able to stop it.”

“I’m-“

 _“Just as vulnerable_ when it comes to getting a bullet in the head,” Tony finished for him, sighing fondly and letting his cheek droop against the blond tufts of hair underneath his chin.

“I’m sorry. For the argument. I… I guess I'm-“ Steve began, but Tony just shook his head and flicked him on the ear, eliciting a delightful little yelp of surprise from Steve- a welcome change from all the sad sounds he’d been making a few seconds prior.

“Listen. I… I overreacted a little. You said something, and it reminded me of someone else. Someone a hell of a lot worse. And I know that you are nothing like him, and I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m an asshole, but believe me when I say I’m an asshole who loves you. I don’t want us to break up- not in a _million years.”_

Steve raised his head to look at Tony, so very vulnerable and… small. “Sure?”

Tony kissed him again, just because he could. “Sure.”

There was a brief pause, where Steve just looked carefully at Tony for a few seconds, eyes flickering all over his face as if he were still afraid that it was all about to get taken away again- before he said quietly, “I just ran through New York with my ass hanging out of this hospital gown. Oh my _god,”_

 

Tony managed to keep his straight face for all of half a second, before exploding into very loud laughter, eyes crinkling up at the edges and mouth a mile wide as he sunk his head into Steve’s chest.

“I love you so much, you absolute _idiot.”_

"Is Pepper going to kill me with her shoe?"

"Well, considering it's her who's going to have to try and stop any photos surfacing, which will undoubtedly be a big hassle, I'm gonna say yes."

Steve sighed, and his arm curled further around Tony's waist, drawing himself up a little until it was him enveloping Tony, rather than the other way around. "Who was it?" He asked quietly, against the top of Tony's hair.

"Who was what?"

"The person who hurt you. Before."

Tony raised his head to shoot Steve a bemused look. "You're really top-hat at this whole 'laid back' thing, aren't you?"

Steve blushed a little, and looked, worrying at his lip in a way that shouldn't have been half as hot as it was. "I'm sorry. I just…I'm allowed at least a _little_ bit of protectiveness, right? If someone's actively been an asshole to you, I'm entitled to go at least one round with them. I feel like that's acceptable."

Tony laughed. "Much as I'd love to watch that happen, I'm afraid you're still Captain America-"

"No. I'd be Steve Rogers, looking out for his fella. And I'd say that was worth more than my position as national icon," Steve muttered, his mouth moving to cover the spot on Tony's temple that Steve had seen the bullet go through on the other version.

Tony paused, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the words. God- Steve could reduce him to the equivalent of a puddle when he said shit like that.

" I…yeah, okay. That is acceptable, considering that a) I'd do the same thing, and b) that was... ridiculously hot," Tony stuttered, then felt it as Steve's chest vibrated with laughter, fingers running teasingly across Tony's hips and skirting the band of his sweatpants.

"I wasn't even _trying,_ darlin'."

Tony took a deep breath, trying not to think about the feeling of Steve's fingertips against his skin, or the way Steve was slowly beginning to lilt into his brooklyn twang in a way that _he knew_ drove Tony crazy. "Listen- any other circumstance, and i would literally have jumped you hours ago for the life-affirming sex. Unfortunately, you are pretty fucking injured right now-"

Steve's face screwed up adorably. "Not _that_ injured, really- ran all the way here, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and I bet it hurts like a motherfucker now, doesn't it?" Tony paused, lifting himself away from Steve in order to brush the stray hairs out of his face and kiss the tip of his nose. "Let me be the one to look after you, this time, huh? I say we both need to go to bed. And no, we are not having sex in it."

Steve whined. Tony just smiled, and kissed him again. "Sorry, sweetheart. But I think we both just need a rest, after all this. You know what happens when I talk about feelings for longer than three minutes; it drains all my energy."

Steve paused, before nodding sullenly. "Fine. Guess I sleep better when you're with me, anyway. But sex later."

"Very much later."

"I heal _really_ quickly."

"Still a week until that arm is healed up, though."

Steve groaned again. "I can't believe I ran naked across New York for _nothing._

Tony laughed, absently listening to Steve's heartbeat through his chest. "You came home. Back to me. I figure it's a worthy cause."

 

Steve hugged him tighter, closing his eyes for a moment as he savoured the feeling of tony; how he smelt and looked and the feel of his body pressed against Steve's own, warm and beautifully, magnificently _alive._

 

"Yeah. It is."

 

 

 

_________

 

 

 

 

Steve's ass was front page news the next day. Tony had the article framed.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love to hear your comments and feedback!! :))
> 
> (my tumblr is @itsallavengers, come bug me :))


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